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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27710741">Give and Take</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/abrandnewheart/pseuds/abrandnewheart'>abrandnewheart</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Haikyuu!!</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Anal Fingering, Dom/sub Undertones, Friends With Benefits, Glove Kink, Hand Jobs, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, gratuitous use of the term 'good boy'</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-11-25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-11-25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 07:10:28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,667</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27710741</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/abrandnewheart/pseuds/abrandnewheart</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>"Gloves," Kiyoomi repeats, and Atsumu can hear the mirth in his voice. </p><p>"Don't laugh at me," Atsumu says, and if it comes out as a whine, with his pout evident in his voice then he doesn't care. Kiyoomi has heard him do worse.</p><p>"I didn't realise you liked gloves so much."</p><p>"Omi, you're killing me."</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Miya Atsumu/Sakusa Kiyoomi</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>9</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>365</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Give and Take</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This has been in my drafts since the middle of the summer, yikes. Pulling it out today and hopefully it holds up! Enjoy.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>They have these physical exams, sometimes. They're all subject to them - it's part of the contract, part of their regulations that they sign up to when they agree to play. It's not usually anything major, just a once over, and a doctor prods and pokes at known injury-prone spots either until he's satisfied that nothing's actually wrong, or until they crumple into a ball with trying to hold it together. </p><p>(Atsumu definitely hadn't crumpled the second time he'd had a check-up, when he'd been prodded between his shoulder blades, and definitely hadn't walked away with orders to see a good massage therapist). </p><p>He's here again - random check-up, the bosses had said, but Atsumu knows it's because he took an absolute dive at the last game and ended up with his ass over his head and not in the fun way. He's been sore for days, but it's finally lifting, and he isn't actually mad about them being careful, couldn't really be mad at anyone for wanting to make sure the star of the show was well enough to play again without further injury. </p><p>Unfortunately for Atsumu, in between team-mandated check-ups, he's developed a habit. A habit of spending far too much time with one Sakusa Kiyoomi, a habit of falling into bed with that same person, and a particularly horrible habit of letting the aforementioned person snap on a pair of blue nitrile gloves so that he can finger Atsumu and fuck him with his hands, until he comes all over himself.</p><p>Sakusa hates the feel of lube on his bare hands, so the gloves were a compromise.</p><p>The unfortunate thing about compromises were just that—they’re compromises. And the compromise for Atsumu is that blue nitrile gloves in any other context have been absolutely <em>ruined</em> for him. </p><p>And that's how Atsumu ends up sat clad in nothing but his underwear in the doctor's office, hearing  and watching <em>blue nitrile gloves</em> get snapped onto a hand that didn't actually belong to Sakusa Kiyoomi, definitely didn't have fingers as long or as pale as Sakusa Kiyoomi's, and definitely couldn’t fuck him open the same way Sakusa Kiyoomi’s did—and he feels his body reacting to the noise despite every logical fibre of his being (granted, these were few) saying <em>no, this is not the time. </em></p><p>He shifts uncomfortably where he sits, twining his fingers together to clasp his hands across his lap, and he prays it hides everything that this poor doctor absolutely does not need to see. The fact that he has had his brain so thoroughly rewired by Kiyoomi's habits is a shock, but he also isn't surprised at all, given the frequency of their encounters. </p><p>He makes a mental note to see if he can locate a different type of glove for Kiyoomi to use, but Kiyoomi is <em>fussy</em>, he is <em>picky</em> and he'll probably say no. He'll definitely say no if he finds out why, because he's a dick and he likes knowing exactly how he affects Atsumu's life. </p><p>No, no, he'll have to just live with this response for as long as he lives, for the second he says anything about it to Kiyoomi, Kiyoomi will absolutely find a way to use it against him. </p><p>Blue gloves and thick fingers press against his back, right in where he knows there's a bruise forming, and he can't help the gasp that falls from his lips. </p><p>"It's tender there, huh?"</p><p>"Mhm," He tries his best not to let his throat reveal how compromised he feels, but it comes out as a squeak instead of anything resembling his normal tone of voice and he feels blood rush to his face.</p><p>The trail of the gloves down his back pulls a shudder out of him. He's long gotten used to the gentle tug, the friction that gloves bring which bare skin doesn't, but never like this - not like this, but that doesn't seem to matter. It's not Kiyoomi, but if he closes his eyes and pretends the fingers are slender instead of thick, pretends they're cool instead of uncomfortably warm where they press into him, it could be. </p><p>He wants to clench his fists. He wants to walk out. He wants to storm over to Kiyoomi's house and demand he get fingered open and fucked hard enough that he can't remember any of this embarrassment ever again.</p><p>But instead of doing what he wants, he sits. He bites down on his lower lip, lets the doctor poke and prod and tries not to actually reveal just how uncomfortably hard he is. It's for his own good. He can see Kiyoomi later. <em>He can see Kiyoomi right after he gets through this. </em></p><p>"How are your legs?"</p><p>
  <em>Like jelly.</em>
</p><p>"What?"</p><p>He hadn't meant to say it out loud.</p><p>"I mean. They're good!" He almost shouts it, because he's been trying to keep quiet for so long that he's forgotten how to regulate his voice. </p><p>"Stand for me."</p><p>He stands, and he hates everything, actually, because holding his hands in his lap to hide his hard-on was one thing, but holding his hands right in front of his crotch? That just makes it obvious.</p><p>...But he'll take being obvious about what he's hiding over just having it out in the open. </p><p>The backs of his thighs are prodded at too, and it takes everything in Atsumu's body to stay upright. When he can't see the doctor's face, it's even easier to pretend it's Kiyoomi, and his brain very unhelpfully fills that in for him, and fills in exactly what Kiyoomi would be whispering to him right now.<em> Don't fall, now. Stay upright for me. Does it tickle? You're being so good. Good boy. </em></p><p>"I think you're fine," The doctor's words are a relief Atsumu knew he needed, and he nearly collapses back onto the examination bed, legs shaky with the exertion of keeping upright. "Might want to rest up a bit more, though, if your legs are that unsteady."</p><p>"Mhm," Atsumu can barely answer, because he's so preoccupied with pulling his shirt back over his head, and his jeans back onto his legs. "Got it, doc, no overdoing it, uh-huh." </p><p>He practically runs out of the room as soon as he's told, "You can go." </p><p>He sends a text to Kiyoomi (affectionately called <em><strong>Omi-omi baby &lt;3</strong></em>  in his phone). <em> I'm coming over. You better be ready for me.</em></p><p>Atsumu has to sit in his car for a solid five minutes for the worst of the horny brain fog to go away. He makes the mistake of leaning his head against the steering wheel. He jerks back from it when he horn goes, and he curses his own stupidity, but he thinks the noise has cleared his head enough to make the drive to Kiyoomi's place. </p><p>He's fortunate, in that Kiyoomi doesn't live far away. </p><p>He bangs insistently on the door when he arrives there, and Kiyoomi answers, all six feet and four inches of him (Atsumu is glad those aren't <em>two separate measurements</em>). His hair is damp at the ends, and his skin is pink like he's just gotten out of the shower, and Atsumu surges up to kiss him without even so much as a 'hello'. </p><p>"What-" Kiyoomi tries to break away to ask him a question, but Atsumu shuts him up with another needy, insistent kiss, only pulling back to say, "Don't talk. Shut up." </p><p>Kiyoomi's clearly confused, but he goes with it, kicking the door shut and pressing Atsumu into it. There's enough residual adrenaline running through him that it doesn't take much in the way of heated, desperate, open-mouthed kisses for him to start getting hard again. They're pressed close enough together that Kiyoomi notices it immediately, and he shoves a leg in between Atsumu's. "You're that desperate for me already, are you?" </p><p>"I-"</p><p>"Where were you this morning? What has you so worked up?"</p><p>"Does it matter?" </p><p>"Be a good boy and tell me."</p><p>Atsumu's breath catches in his throat. He lets his hands skirt up and down Kiyoomi's sides before coming to rest on the back of his neck, fingers tangling in dark damp curls. </p><p>"Had to go for a check-up," He finally admits. </p><p>"A check-up." Kiyoomi is deadpan. "A check-up got you all worked up for me?"</p><p>Atsumu's voice is very, very small as he continues, because he has to—he has to continue, he can't just let Kiyoomi think he has some kind of doctor kink when that's not strictly what this was at all. </p><p>"The gloves," He finally admits, with eyes closed because he cannot bring himself to look at Kiyoomi while he says it. "He—the doctor had gloves."</p><p>"Gloves," Kiyoomi repeats, and Atsumu can hear the mirth in his voice. </p><p>"Don't laugh at me," Atsumu says, and if it comes out as a whine, with his pout evident in his voice then he doesn't care. Kiyoomi has heard him do worse. </p><p>"I didn't realise you liked gloves so much."</p><p>"Omi, you're killing me," He complains. He didn't come here for this kind of treatment - he just wanted to show up and get obliterated so hard he wakes up next week.  "Either go get your fucking gloves and get ready to fuck me or let me go die in a pit somewhere."</p><p>"Oh, baby," Kiyoomi's voice goes soft, and he presses a kiss to Atsumu's forehead, hands cupping Atsumu's cheeks. "I'll take care of you, how about that?" </p><p>It sends a shudder through Atsumu, and his mouth goes dry, so he nods instead of trying to speak any more. If he never speaks again, he'll never be able to admit to the glove thing ever again, and that sounds like a good compromise.</p><p>Kiyoomi takes Atsumu's hand and leads him through the apartment to the bedroom. Atsumu used to think it was terrible and clinical, but since he's started spending time here, it's changed a little, for the better. There is clutter where previously there was none. The bed is often left unmade—as it is now, and Atsumu throws himself down upon it and pulls his shirt off over his head. </p><p>"Someone's eager," Kiyoomi comments, and Atsumu kicks out in his direction—misses, thankfully— and snarls, "Get your ass over here."</p><p>"I thought you wanted my gloves."</p><p>"Omi," It's a pitiful whine, and he hopes it conveys the <em>'please get over here and stop teasing oh my god I'm going to combust’</em> that he puts into it.</p><p>Gloves and lube are pulled from the bedside table. Those are noises Atsumu recognises too, and he takes the liberty of stripping off the rest of his clothes until he's back down to just his underwear again. There's no point in wasting time—though when he's less worked up, he does so enjoy watching Kiyoomi's fingers fiddle with the clasp of his jeans and pull them off for him like Atsumu is a present he just can't wait to unwrap. </p><p>"Take those off, too," Kiyoomi instructs once he's sat on the bed, curling two fingers into the elastic that sits on Atsumu's waist. He pulls it away and lets it snap back against his skin. </p><p><em>That's</em> a sound Atsumu knows as well, and he's all to quick to comply, shoving his hands down and curling his legs up to pull the last of his clothes off and fling them across the room.</p><p>His cock is hot and heavy, and already leaking; has been since those <em>fucking</em> nitrile gloves at the doctor's office, has been since the imagined <em>good boy</em> whispered in his ear. </p><p>"Omi," He says, and it's like a prayer, like he's pleading for something and he doesn't even know what it is he wants any more, but whatever it is he wants Kiyoomi to do it to him. </p><p>"I'm here," Kiyoomi leans over, pressing a soft, reassuring kiss to Atsumu's mouth. "I'm going to take care of you, okay?" </p><p>Being taken care of starts with the familiar snap of blue nitrile gloves against pale, pale skin.</p><p>Atsumu's breath hitches in a gasp at the sound of gloves. He feels, rather than sees, the way his cock twitches. </p><p>Kiyoomi says, "I just can't believe you got so worked up without me," and Atsumu feels something like terror run through him, the absolute fear of having disappointed Kiyoomi when all he tries to do is be good. He tries so, so hard to be <em>good</em> for Kiyoomi, he tries so hard to pull more ‘<em>good boy’</em>s and ‘<em>you make me happy’</em>s from Kiyoomi's throat every time he's here.  "What am I supposed to do with you?"</p><p>"M'sorry," Atsumu manages after a few long seconds. "I'm sorry I didn't mean to I was thinking about you—"</p><p>Kiyoomi presses a finger to his lips to quieten him. Atsumu shudders at the friction of gloves against the sensitive skin. "I'm not angry," He says, and Kiyoomi lets his eyes soften to show he means it.</p><p>Atsumu presses a kiss to the finger on his lips. Kiyoomi goes to pull away, but Atsumu chases it, pulling the finger into his mouth and sucking gently. He doesn't exactly love the taste of nitrile, doesn't think it even comes close to the feel of skin in his mouth, but this is a compromise he makes, too. This is a compromise he can get behind. </p><p>Kiyoomi presses another finger into his mouth, and Atsumu sucks greedily on that until Kiyoomi decides he's had enough. </p><p>He pulls his fingers away. A trail of saliva connects his fingers to Atsumu's mouth - until it breaks, and Atsumu is left with the remnants on his face. He goes to wipe it off, but Kiyoomi says, "No. Leave it," and Atsumu's hand freezes in midair.</p><p>Kiyoomi hates messes, but he does so love making one of Atsumu.</p><p>"Omi," Atsumu tries, voice quiet, almost reverent. "Please."</p><p>"Please what, Atsumu? What do you want?"</p><p>"You," It's a pathetic answer, but Atsumu feels pathetic. He could be given fingers, or a mouth anywhere on his body, or he could just let Kiyoomi ram all the way home in one long, hard thrust and Atsumu would be happy with all of it. Any of it. He just wants <em>something</em>. </p><p>Kiyoomi looks like he's considering Atsumu's answer, and he trails one damp, gloved finger down the side of Atsumu's neck, over a sensitive, hard little nub of a nipple, down the planes of his abs and then along the length of his cock which is openly weeping precome all over his stomach. "Is this what you want?" He asks, trailing his finger back along his cock—just one finger, over and over, and over until Atsumu is writhing, because it's good, but it's not <em>enough</em>. The friction is weird, but it's good, but it's only one finger and Kiyoomi could probably keep him on the edge like this all night.</p><p>"I-hah—" He struggles to talk around shaky breaths, and he lets out a noise that he cannot even put a name to when Kiyoomi closes his fist around his cock.</p><p>"Tell me what you want," Kiyoomi is more insistent, this time, and Atsumu does his best to stop writhing on the bed, does his best to calm his breathing enough so that he can answer.</p><p> </p><p>"Fingers," he finally gasps, "I want you to fuck me with your fingers." And then his cock after, maybe, if he's feeling up to it, but for now? For now it is fingers. </p><p>Kiyoomi is quick to oblige, pulling away—Atsumu whines at the loss of the fist around his cock—only to say, "Hips. Up," so that he can slide a pillow underneath for leverage.</p><p>Kiyoomi settles between Atsumu's open thighs, and he snaps the bottle of lube open—Atsumu feels his whole body shudder at the sound of that, too—and Atsumu watches as he drizzles lube over his fingers. </p><p>It's cold as the first finger presses against him—it's Kiyoomi's middle finger, he can tell—and Atsumu feels himself tense up instead of the reverse. Kiyoomi must notice it too, for he presses soft little kisses to the inside of Atsumu's thigh, whispering, "Be good. I know you can," against the tender skin.</p><p>Be good. He wants to be good. Atsumu wants to be good. He takes a deep, shaky breath, and it shudders back out. "Good," Kiyoomi murmurs against his thigh, "Good," He repeats as he tries again, and this time Atsumu lets him. He takes more deep breaths to steady himself as Kiyoomi works on him—slowly, ever so slowly, ever so carefully working his way up to a finger the whole way inside. The lube does a lot to dampen the feeling that this is a gloved hand, but it doesn't remove it entirely, and Atsumu feels the nitrile catching on his rim where there are dryer spots. </p><p>He doesn't mind it at all, not any more, not when Kiyoomi is finally, finally giving him something good, not when Kiyoomi knows just when to press a second finger - his ring finger, this time  - in alongside the first. He doesn't mind the little bit of friction where it exists. It's all just so <em>good</em>. </p><p>He becomes aware that he's babbling nonsense when Kiyoomi chuckles, "Someone's noisy today," and he feels heat rise in his cheeks again, feels the entire upper part of his body go red, and he lifts a hand to his mouth and bites down on it just to stop himself from saying anything else that was embarrassing. </p><p>"I didn't tell you to be quiet," Kiyoomi says, and it's now that he chooses to add a third finger. It draws the whine out of Atsumu's mouth even around his hand, and he flings his arm down to tangle in the sheets instead as he blabbers. "Omi," He whines, "Omi. Omi. Ki—Omi—hh—"</p><p>There's a familiar tell-tale sign. It starts as a pleasant hum in his extremities, like static, and it spreads through him, up his legs and down his arms until there's an all too familiar heat coiling in his stomach. </p><p>Kiyoomi notices. </p><p>He knows the visible signs as well as Atsumu does; the way his hips shift to chase Kiyoomi's fingers each time he pulls them out, the way his hands clench and unclench, the way he pants and moans, "Please, please pleasepleaseplease Omi, Omi, please," and other nonsense, the way soft little tears collect at the corners of his eyes and the way his legs start to quiver like they might actually give out and never be usable again.</p><p>He is not careful with how he fucks Atsumu on his fingers any longer. Atsumu can only lay there and take it, let the feeling grow inside of him as Kiyoomi takes charge again, the way Atsumu likes it best, the way he likes the most, the way he thinks Kiyoomi likes most. </p><p>Kiyoomi forces his fourth finger inside at the same time he takes Atsumu's cock in his mouth, and really, Atsumu had stood no chance of lasting whatsoever. </p><p>He comes, long and hot and sticky into Kiyoomi's waiting mouth, and another shudder rolls through him as Kiyoomi swallows around him.</p><p>Somewhere, he knows Kiyoomi hates doing this but he always does anyway, and Atsumu smiles down at him, soft, almost dopey, before letting his head fall back against the pillow as he closes his eyes.</p><p>When Atsumu opens his eyes again, there's a weighted blanket around him, but no sign of Kiyoomi. His arms feel weak as he tries to sit himself up, but he manages, leaning back against a mountain of pillows (Atsumu could never understand why he had so many in the first place). Panic rises, even though he knows it's stupid, logically he knows it's stupid—but Kiyoomi is always there afterwards. He never just disappears. </p><p>"Omi," He calls, and he hates how pathetic his voice sounds, hates how he sounds strained after all of the shouting from earlier. </p><p>"I'll be right back!" There's a call from somewhere else in the apartment, and Atsumu does his best to lay back down under the blanket and soothe himself, but he's never been much good at looking after himself in the first place, and this is no exception. </p><p>Kiyoomi returns no more than thirty seconds later, though, clutching a glass of water and a bowl of—something. </p><p>"You weren't here," Atsumu mumbles, feeling all the more stupid now as he takes the glass of water from Kiyoomi's outstretched hand. He gulps it down as Kiyoomi settles on the bed beside him, and now he can see that the bowl has food. More specifically, there are grapes and apple chunks, which Kiyoomi is holding out to place gently into Atsumu's mouth now that he's done guzzling water. </p><p>He doesn't resist licking Omi's fingers a little as he takes the snacks. </p><p>When he's done with that, too, Kiyoomi lays back on the bed. Atsumu doesn't hesitate to press in against him, resting his head on Kiyoomi's chest, and Kiyoomi wraps an arm around him. "How are you feeling?" Kiyoomi asks.</p><p>"Tired," Atsumu complains, hiding his face in Kiyoomi's shirt. Shirt. He still had his shirt on, and so Atsumu huffs and demands he take it off, because he needs skin contact, damn it.</p><p>Kiyoomi doesn't complain, and soon enough they resume the cuddle but without clothes in the way. </p><p>"How else are you feeling?" Kiyoomi presses, running his thumb in soft circles on Atsumu's back. </p><p>"Embarrassed," Atsumu finally admits, "I freaked out when you weren't here."</p><p>"No, no," Kiyoomi says, "That's on me. I thought you were sleeping. I know you like me being here."</p><p>He's here now, though, and Atsumu can't really stifle the yawn that escapes him. "Hey Omi?" </p><p>"Yes?"</p><p>"Can we take a nap?" </p><p>Kiyoomi hums and pulls a face like he actually has to think about the answer. "You've been awfully good for me, haven't you? I think we can take a nap." </p><p>Atsumu sleeps well that afternoon.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Comments are much appreciated! </p><p>You can catch me on twitter <a href="https://twitter.com/anoffbrandheart">here</a>!</p></blockquote></div></div>
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